Surprise
by Roxy Rosee
Summary: Daryl is injured when the Governor attacks the prison, and in a moment of blind pain and agony, it's only Rick that can comfort him. Who do you reach for when you're at your lowest? The answer for Daryl reveals more than either man ever expected.


True to form, Daryl and Merle arrived just in time. The Governor was shooting up a storm, walkers were swarming all over the yard, and Rick was pinned down against the fence by three dead ones, struggling to stay alive.

_Shouldn't have left him. Never should have fucking left him,_ Daryl kept cursing himself as he sprinted towards the group's leader. He almost laughed at the look of utter surprise on Rick's face when a bolt hit the snarling head closest to him right between the eyes. Merle stepped in soon after, and he and Rick worked together to put down another half dozen walkers.

Rick and Daryl shared a suspended moment, before Rick gave him the most infinitesimal of nods, and Daryl returned it. Daryl had come back, and that meant everything. But then a shot rang out across the grounds, and the moment was broken.

Daryl didn't hit the ground right away. For a few moments, he just looked down at the small hole in his chest that was rapidly leaking blood, appearing surprised more than anything.

Rick was the first to react. "No. NO!"

Tentative fingers examined the blood that was leaking from his body like a sprung faucet. The archer finally looked up and met the ex-Officer's eyes. "Rick?"

_God, not him,_ was all Rick could think, _Not him, please not him._

Rick caught Daryl before he hit the ground, throwing the man over his shoulder and screaming at Merle to come help him. Of all the people Rick would have expected to freeze under pressure, Merle wasn't it. But he was staring at his brother helplessly, as if in all his imagined scenarios of how things could turn out for him and his baby brother, he'd never imagined this.

"Merle, we need to get him to Hershel! NOW!" Rick shouted, and that finally prompted Merle to act. He helped to hoist Daryl up onto his other shoulder, and the trio took off towards the prison, dragging a bleary and unconscious Daryl between them.

Neither Rick nor Merle registered that the Governor and his people were retreating. They didn't notice much that the courtyard had already been largely cleared of walkers. The only sound was their haggard breathing as they sprinted towards the prison, then Rick's hurried rasp as soon as Hershel was in his sights, "Is he alive? Is he alive?!"

They laid him out in Hershel's cell, Rick and Merle hovering in the background as Hershel cut away his shirt and examined the wound. "He's alive, but we need to get the bullet out and stop the bleeding. It didn't hit his lungs, and that probably saved his life."

"How can you tell?" Merle asked.

"Because if the bullet had hit his lungs, he'd already be dead," Hershel said quickly. Then to Carol, "I need sutures, gauze, and towels."

He placed a pad on Daryl's chest, stopping the bleeding as well he could until Carol returned. "Merle, do you know your brother's blood type?"

The older Dixon seemed blindsided by the question. "Never went to the hospital, couldn't afford it…"

"I'm A positive, can he have mine?" Rick asked.

"If we give him the wrong type, his body could reject it. We can't risk it."

Carol returned with the necessary supplies, and Hershel looked to Rick once more. "He's unconscious now, but once I start looking for that bullet, he's bound to wake up. You remember what happened with Carl? I'm going to need you to hold him still. If he moves too much he'll only do more damage. Can you do that, Rick?"

"Yeah," Rick said immediately, kneeling at the other end of the bed, by Daryl's head, "I've got it. Just…save him."

Hershel sunk his tweezers into Daryl's wound, and Daryl screamed.

"Stop! Stop!" he pleaded, back arching off the bed. Rick held down his shoulders, but it wasn't enough.

"Merle, get his legs!" Rick instructed, and the man was at the bedside instantly, holding his baby brother still as Hershel prodded inside of him.

The archer hadn't even opened his eyes yet, and didn't seem to understand where he was or what was happening. He writhed back and forth on the bed, trying to buck the men off of him. His eyes were clenched shut, and he was biting hard enough at his lip to draw blood. He wanted to remain quiet, it seemed, not betray his own distress. But it was no use, Daryl was panting audibly, groaning and whimpering and letting out sobbing moans with every breath.

"You got shot," Rick tried to explain, "Hershel has to get the bullet out, okay? You have to stay still."

But nothing was getting through. Daryl fought to get out of the men's grasp, desperate to end the pain.

"Daryl, you can do this," Rick told him, "I'm right here. We're gonna get through it."

Finally, Daryl's eyes opened, immediately fixating on Rick's face above him. He stilled, for the briefest moment, but then Hershel's tweezers moved again and Daryl couldn't choke down his horrified scream.

"_Rick_!"

"I know, fuck, I know, Daryl. I'm sorry," Rick rasped. He couldn't stand to see Daryl like this. Of all the people in his family, Daryl was the one who deserved this the least, the one who didn't need any more pain in his life. He tried to squeeze Daryl's shoulders reassuringly, letting him know that he wasn't going anywhere.

Daryl reached back to grasp both of Rick's forearms, gripping him hard as another sharp burst of pain tore through him. "Rick!"

"C'mon brother, you've had worse. Quit bein' a pussy and hold still," Merle goaded. But when Rick shot him a death glare, and Daryl broke into another curdling moan, Merle realized his mistake. This wasn't the kind of pain that could be overcome with enough willpower. This was the kind of pain that broke a man.

Merle remained quiet, uncomfortably so, as he watched Rick soothe his brother. But another twitch of the tweezers and Daryl was sobbing into Rick's arm, begging them to stop torturing him.

"Rick, stop, please stop," Daryl pleaded brokenly, hiding his face against Rick's skin.

"Why isn't he passing out?" Rick asked Hershel, trying to ignore Daryl's desperate tone.

Merle answered instead, "Too high a pain tolerance."

Rick bit hard at the inside of his cheek, understanding what Merle was implying.

Tears were streaming down Daryl's cheeks. Hershel had already pulled out several sharp bits from Daryl's body, covered in blood and now collecting dust in a dish on the floor.

"What is that?" Merle questioned.

"Bone."

"Jesus," Merle cursed under his breath.

"I'm going in for the bullet now that the rest of the wound is clear. Keep him still."

Then Hershel's tweezers probed even deeper than before, and Daryl turned inconsolable.

"Stop!" Daryl sobbed, "Please, please Rick, I can't- just kill me. Please stop, I'm sorry, please!"

But Rick only hushed him, with his mouth close to Daryl's ear. Realizing that Daryl hadn't tried to buck off the bed in quite a while, Rick removed one of his hands from Daryl's shoulders and moved it to the archer's head, slowly stroking through his hair and trying to calm the man. On some level, Daryl must have realized that what they were doing was necessary. He pushed himself further into Rick's touch, face contorted in pain but body immobile aside from the trembling.

"C'mon Daryl, you can do this. Just a little while longer and then it'll all be over, alright?"

"Rick, please…"

"I know. Fuck, I'm sorry. You're almost there."

"Got it!" Hershel announced, and faster than would have seemed wise, he whisked the bullet from Daryl's body and deposited it into the bowl on the floor. Daryl sagged fully into Rick, exhausted and in pain, but mostly relieved. The man hardly flinched as Hershel sewed him up, hardly acknowledged when he was instructed to get some rest. In the end, he was out like a light before anyone had as much as left the cell.

Though Hershel insisted they all leave him to sleep, Rick couldn't be deterred so easily. He paced back and forth by the cell on and off for the next day, sometimes propping himself against the wall outside of it and staring in.

"Why hasn't he woken up?" Rick asked Hershel worriedly. "It's been more than a day. He should be awake…"

"He suffered a trauma, Rick. His body needs time to recuperate. He's stable, healing. And he'll wake up eventually; you just need to give him time."

On the third day, Hershel determined that Daryl didn't need a bedside nurse anymore. He hadn't woken up, not for as much as a minute, but he was breathing easy and the wound was healing up nicely. And though Rick and Merle both spent a fair amount of time sitting at his bed, sometimes talking to him and sometimes not, it was clear enough that Daryl wasn't dying. But he wasn't living, either. Not in the way they'd come to expect of him.

On the fifth day, the prison crew were sitting in the cafeteria eating lunch when Daryl came sauntering into the room, fully dressed with his hunting knife hanging from his belt. He stopped dead in his tracks when the entire room turned to stare at him, shooting everyone an angry glare before demanding, "What?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing out of bed?" Hershel chastised first.

Daryl shrugged one shoulder and continued towards the group, "Had to piss."

Rick couldn't help but crack a smile at his cavalier tone. Daryl grabbed an open can of beans and went to sit down with his brother. "And anyways, m'fuckin' hungry."

He seemed more confused than anything when the group burst into a fit of laughter at that, his brother included.

Daryl glowered around the room. "Y'all know somethin' I don't?"

"Son, are you in any pain?" Hershel asked.

Daryl cocked an eyebrow at him. "'Course I am, I got shot."

Rick laughed aloud at that, and Daryl turned his angry, uncertain gaze towards the ex-Sheriff. "The hell?"

"Daryl, you got any idea how long you've been sleeping?"

There was a short pause. "Couple of hours?"

"Try five days."

Daryl's eyes went from Hershel to Merle for confirmation, and when no one seemed to be screwing with him, he remarked, "Shit. No wonder y'all looked so fuckin' surprised."

TWDTWDTWDTWD

It was only a day later that Daryl downright refused to sit inside the prison a moment longer.

"I ain't some fuckin' invalid," Daryl carped.

"You've made that very clear," Rick replied calmly, trying to keep the grin off of his face.

"Then why the hell can't I take watch by myself? Don't need no fuckin' escort!"

They were sitting across from each other in the guard tower. When Rick had taken the initiative to walk with Daryl as he'd headed in this direction, the archer hadn't realized that meant the leader would be sticking around permanently. And he was pissed.

"How fast you gonna be loading that crossbow with a big gaping hole in your chest?" Rick countered.

That seemed to deflate Daryl a bit. "Faster than you," he replied stubbornly, then added, "And it ain't...gapin'."

Nobody had left Daryl alone for more than a few minutes since he'd woken up, and the man was becoming more than agitated by the coddling. He needed some time to himself, to sort out his wounded ego and body and figure out just what the hell had happened in that cell...because at the moment, he wasn't too sure.

"What's the last thing you remember, before you woke up?" Rick asked him. Daryl squirmed at the way that man seemed to read his damn thoughts.

"Remember Hershel takin' the bullet out. Bits 'n pieces," Daryl admitted. _Remember trying to claw my way into your fucking body 'cuz I thought it was the only thing that'd make the pain stop._

"You were pretty out of it," Rick said, giving the man some leverage.

"Mmm," Daryl acknowledged, "Wasn't sure at first...Thought maybe, the Governor..."

"That why you calmed down when you finally opened your eyes?"

Daryl nodded with a frown, then muttered, "Do we gotta talk about this, man? Embarassin' enough..."

"What do you have to be embarrassed about?" Rick asked incredulously.

"Was bein' a pussy..." Daryl mumbled.

"Stop that. I don't want to hear your brother's words coming out of your mouth," Rick interrupted him sharply. "You think Merle would have been much better if he had Hershel digging around his chest for a piece of metal with no anesthetic? _Jesus_, Daryl. I mean the fact that you managed to calm down enough to avoid doing more damage was a miracle itself."

"Was more you than me," Daryl muttered, and immediately turned beet red when he realized he'd said the words aloud. _You stupid fuck._ He hadn't let much slip. Certainly hadn't disclosed that in the five days he'd been out, he'd dreamt restlessly about Rick the entire time. Rick close to him. Rick whispering promises in his ear. And when he'd finally woken up, Daryl had felt the briefest pang of disappointment. Because if he was laying flat out in his cell, then nothing he'd dreamt could have been real. _Fuck, just fuck._

Rick's eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Nothin'," Daryl immediately replied, avoiding Rick's gaze.

"Hey, man, if I helped, then...that ain't a bad thing. Not at all," Rick told him gently.

Finally, Daryl met his eyes, and Rick's body warmed at the man's uncertain expression.

"M'serious, Daryl. I don't want to hear you talking like that again," Rick restated.

There was a long pause before Daryl said quietly, "It helped. You doin'...what ya did." Daryl cut himself off, struggling to find the words. "Ain't never been able to calm down before, if it was bad like that...but hearin' you, and...and feelin'—"

Daryl stopped abruptly and bit hard at his lower lip.

"It's alright, Daryl. I think I get it," Rick said.

He moved to sit right next to the archer, both of them leaning up against the wall. Daryl startled when Rick moved so close so suddenly, but didn't try to escape. He simply stared at the man with eyes wide, trying to predict what was coming.

"What are you doin'?"

Rick watched Daryl closely for a moment, trying to slow his racing heart.

"Rick?" Daryl asked hesitantly. In that same soft tone he'd used when the bullet hit.

"I wanna try something," Rick said eventually.

"Okay..."

"You can stop me."

"I...Rick, what's goin' on?"

"You gonna let me try?"

Daryl stared hard at the group leader for a moment, before near-whispering a tentative, "Rick?"

Hearing the archer utter his name so intimately, that was all it took for Rick to lose his last shred of control. Before he could lose his nerve, he leaned into Daryl's body and pressed his lips to that perfect mouth in a cautious kiss.

It was a short, chaste kiss. A brief meeting of lips before Rick pulled back to look Daryl in the eye. But he was disappointed and immediately blindingly embarrassed to find Daryl frozen in place, face a cross between shock, disbelief, and something else that Rick could not quite place.

"Rick, why'd you...why...?" Daryl asked softly. And that probably surprised Rick more than anything. Daryl wasn't angry, he wasn't trying to beat him into the ground. He was just...confused. Daryl was as surprised as he was.

"Watching you go down, Daryl, it changed things for me. No, that ain't right. More like, it made me come to terms with something that I'd been sitting on for a while. You're family to me. I know you know that. And I love you. Think you know that too. But the way I feel about you, it ain't all friendly..."

Daryl maintained his silence, biting at his lip steadily. Finally he managed to rasp, "Why me?"

Rick snorted, "Why does anyone like anyone? You're a lifeline to this group. More important to them than you'll ever know. But even more, I don't know if I would have survived without you with me, since the farm. Need you more than you realize. S'why, if you want to forget about this and go on like normal, that's fine by me. But when you got shot, seeing you like that...just realized you could die, and I'd never as much as tried. So I wanted to...ya know...try."

Daryl looked him dead in the eye. "Try again."

Rick did not hesitate for a second. When their lips met this time, Daryl responded in full. And when Rick's tongue traced along his lower lip, he allowed him entrance, groaning into the older man's mouth when the writhing muscle rolled against his own.

Daryl's enthusiasm was all the encouragement Rick needed, and no time at all, he had Daryl pinned underneath him, arching against the cool concrete as Rick pawed at his muscular body.

Rick's mouth moved from lips to long column of neck, biting and licking and sucking hard until he left reddish purple marks that he knew wouldn't fade. Underneath him, Daryl was utterly overwhelmed. His hips bucked up against Rick's with every nip of teeth against his heated skin. And his fingers clawed at Rick's back, desperate for more, but lacking the words to demand it.

The ex-Officer never so much as looked up at Daryl for confirmation before deftly unbuckling his belt and sliding one hand into the tight confines of Daryl's jeans. He wrapped a hand around Daryl's straining cock, and the archer bowed up off the floor, letting out a low moan and begging with his body.

"Oh fuck, Rick," Daryl groaned. He was flushed all over, heart pounding in his chest. Rick swept his thumb across the head and Daryl cried out, shoulders coming up off the ground for the briefest of moments.

"Christ, Daryl, you've got no idea what you're doing to me right now," Rick murmured, beginning to stroke him steadily.

"Was...was dreamin' bout ya," Daryl panted, "When I was out. Kept dreamin' you were there. With me."

Rick moaned lowly, "Yeah, what'd I do in your dreams?"

"Made it...made it stop...hurtin'. You were always...talkin'...touchin'...oh god, Rick, I-" Daryl whimpered, fumbling over his words. His cock pulsed in Rick's hand, leaking pre-cum steadily to slick the way.

"Jesus Daryl," Rick groaned, "This better than your dream. This what you were wanting?"

Daryl nodded rapidly then pulled Rick towards him again by his shirt collar, smashing their lips together and thrusting his tongue against Rick's.

"Need...need you to do it...please, Rick..."

"Yeah? What do you need?"

"Gotta be us both...can't just be me..._Rick_..."

"Shh Daryl, I know. I'll make it happen."

With his free hand, Rick jerked his own belt open and freed his throbbing cock. He took them both in a single hand, his fist just barely wrapping around the girth, and began to stroke them simultaneously.

"Shit, oh shit," Daryl panted into Rick's neck.

"Fuck, you feel good," Rick moaned, "Ain't gonna last. Been needing you too long as it is."

"Do it," Daryl demanded, "I...I want it. Want you, Rick."

Rick's hand twisted over two heads, rubbing their cocks together with their combined wetness and moving in rough, rapid circles.

"_Rick,_" Daryl sobbed out brokenly. "Please, oh please..."

"C'mon, Christ c'mon..."

Daryl bit down hard on the pulse point of Rick's neck, and Rick's fingernails racked up Daryl's side. And at that, it was over for the both of them. Daryl buried his face in Rick's shirt as he came by the leader's hand, cock jerking and twitching as milky whiteness spewed out in thick spurts.

The archer tried to muffle his moans of pleasure into Rick's chest, but Rick made no such attempt. He tilted his head back and groaned loudly into the air as he felt his cock pulse right alongside Daryl's, their combined come mingling on Rick's hand and between their bodies.

Awhile later, they sat back to back against the wall, with Daryl smoking a cigarette and staring out into the dark

Quite suddenly, Rick began to giggle, and then downright laugh. Daryl cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Sorry, sorry," Rick chuckled, "Just thought that was only in the movies. Smokin' a cigarette after...ya know."

Daryl didn't seem to _know_ at all, for a moment. But then he broke into a conspiratorial smirk and nudged Rick with his shoulder. "It calms me down, ya dick."

"You got something not to be calm over? Ought to be taking it easy, considering you're injured and all."

"If you're aimin' for me to stay calm, best not jump my bones again in the future. 'Cuz that didn't exactly help."

Rick snorted and ran a hand through his messy locks. "Was worth it."

"Mmm," Daryl hummed in agreement.

"We gonna be okay?"

Daryl shrugged. "We were already okay."

Rick nodded. "We gonna...do this again?"

Daryl blotted out his spent cigarette on the ground. "Yeah," he breathed lightly, eyes twinkling with something sinister, "So long as ya still got those cuffs on you, _Officer_."


End file.
